Inheritance
by WindStar
Summary: Murtagh's life has never been harder. Taken from the Varden, during Eldest he was to be trained, and he was to become fully under Galbatorix's control. For if the king ever died, he has chosen an heir to rule one that will crush and destroy any resistane
1. Seregmor Athan

"He shall be enraged when he discovers that we have nearly killed the boy..." Firelight hissed though the darkness of the night. Only three figures could be seen easily in the dark. 

"We do not have the power to heal him...if he dies it will be the fault of the healer." The other answered, moving once more the check the weakening pulse of the child among men.

"A healer we do not have in our presence, and once more the fault will be ours." The candle sank lower to the teen's face, and it became all the more evident that he was in desperate need of medical assistance.

"The Varden's spies are everywhere, we cannot take him to Dras-Leona without someone noticing him...and Uru'baen is much to far away to walk. The transport will be here soon, we shall have to wait...healer or not." Hands moved once more the the large and unsettling gash that adorned the teen's brow. It compensated for over half of the left side of his face, dissapearing into his hairline. Surrounding the wound was heavy bruising that was soon turning into a pictionary refrence to every color imaginable. It was a complex wound, caused only by the club of a careless Urgal who had become to battle hungry to ensure the boy's imperative safety.

The two exhausted men had done all in their power to keep him from dying, but no matter how much energy the poured into the boy, he was not healing. They were masters of the mind, not of medicinal arts. Now they were out of strength, and they knew not what to do. He was in the midst of fever ridden drearms, and he showed no signs of waking. That on it's own was another problem. He had not eaten nor imbibed any substance since their flight from the Varden nearly 3 days ago. His cracked lips and hoarse breathing bore testiment to how dehydrated he was, and his watchers new that he would not survive anything if he did not drink any water soon. However, for fear of him choking on the water, they had no way of him drinking a proper amount of anything.

"How long until the transport arrives? It will grant us passage to Uru'baen by morning." One of the men took a damp cloth and squeezed it lightly over the child's lips, hoping the small amount would give him strength to last the night.  
"It should be coming any minute now." Still, as he looked above them, no sign of anything but stars met his eyes. The child beside them moaned in his sleep, and the two felt certain this would be their last night alive.

Suddenly from the sky, a flurry of wings and feathers alerted them to the presence of another. They looked up, thanking the gods profusely as the sight of a griffin came closer and closer. As it landed they became aware that the creature had a rider. It was a mere Raz'ac and they frowned at the sight of it.

"The lord wants you to deliver the boy to me." It hissed at them. They frowned, knowing that if they handed the sickly child to this monster, he would most certainly not last the night. He would be tormented the entire way to the city, and death would come fast. However this was their chance. The could easily blame the Raz'ac for killing the boy... but the orders they recieved were sound.

"If he dies before he reaches my city your heads will be the newest ornament on my wall." he said. No, they would have to personally see to it that the boy reached Uru'baen alive. For if he didn't, they would soon be seeing him in death.

"We will be escorting the boy to Uru'baen." The men hissed, slowly picking up the teen and moving towards the Raz'ac. He growled at them, but they paid no heed - simply cursing him and watching as he melted away like the filth he was. The griffin jumped in surprise, but fortunatly stayed in it's place.

The three sat upon the creature, child's head lolling back on the shoulder of one of the men. With a word the lion/eagle hybrid jumped to the sky, soaring quickly towards the capital.

It took five hours to cross the tremendous distance towards Uru'baen. By that time the boy inbetween his captors had ceased all movement and his heart rate was dangerously slow. His breathing was coming in short gasps, while his skin was cold and clamy. When the city gates finally came into view, they breathed out a sigh in relief. He had not died before he entered the city, but they knew that that did not absolve the punishment they would recieve for allowing him to get so horrendously hurt.

As the griffin landed, they were met by the king himself. He looked slightly amused by the fact that his Raz'ac had not returned. but then the amusement dissapeared into a stone cold mask that was showed clearly that he was not someone to trifle with. He was prepared to repremend the boy right then and there. That was of course, before he saw how serious the child's wounds were.

He noticed how the twins were avoiding his gaze as they managed to get off the beast. He noticed how the son of his dear friend was leaning completely on them for support rather then trying to fight his way back out of the city. He noticed the guilty expressions that were mirrored on the Twins, and how they paused to long before turning to face him. He noticed how they had purposly arranged for the boy's back to be towards him , his face buried in one of their chests, and in all of his infinate wisdom - he knew that something was wrong.

"What in gods names did you do wrong this time?" He hissed taking three quick strides toward them. The men stiffened, but the boy did not - something that was increasinly pulling at his heart for he knew that this particular child hated being in this city and around him more then any other. The words he had spoken to this public he had spoken to this wayward teen in private on more then one occasion, each ending in the boy in tears begging for forgiveness. Even though each of those events had been forcibly removed from the boy's memory - each time he spoke them, those words always managed to cause him to shudder and shrink back inside of himself.

"My lord...during the sting opperation...he was wounded by an urgal..." The one not holding the boy whispered. Galbatorix stiffened for only a momment before hissing at them to see the damage. Slowly yet surely the teen was turned to face him, and he was forced to surpress the gasp that was tearing at his throat. It was a miracle the child was still alive. Moving quickly towards him, he gently placed him on the ground and placed a hand over the wound.

"Waise heil." He commanded, and instantly a light surrounded the boy - wound vanishing instantly. Still the boy didn't wake, and the King did not want him to. Looking up at the Twins he hissed. "Why did you not heal him before his wounds progressed to near death?!"

"We did not have the strength my lord...our power lies mainly in the destruction of the mind, not in the healing arts. And we were drained of energy after the flight..." Galbatorix glowered, but said nothing as he pulled the weak and shivering boy into his arms. The child's clothing had been left behind by the Twind on his order to make his death seem true, but the replacement tunic was hardly keeping the child warm, nor were there any leggings and shoes to help.

As he acended the stairs to the sleeping quarters of the citadel, he looked down at the teen and sighed. He wanted the boy to suffer for the insolence that he had shown, and the clear lack of respect that he had shown. But it was momments like this that he often wondered why he was so hard on the boy. He had always observed the child's life with vague curiosity, and yet he never showed any inkling that he cared for him at all. Rather he was adept at showing hatred towards him. This thing in his arms was his last tie to the only friend he had ever had. Who was he to make such a valuble boy suffer?

As he entered the boy's old bedroom he sighed. It had been over a year since he had entered the boy's room, and as he eased the cold and weak teen under the covers of the large bed, he forced himself to set aside the last memory he had of this room. It was to much to think about now, and to much to try to take in. How could he ever tell his friend's son, and the closest thing he had ever had to having a child, of the fear and pain he had felt the night the boy fled? This boy would merely shake off the words, call him a liar, and hate him for the rest of his days as he already did.

How could he tell this boy that from the day Morzan had died, he had thought Murtagh, as an heir?

Windster: I do not have any ownership of Eragon or Eldest, all rights of the two belong to Christopher Paolini.


	2. Fenndel

Windstar: I noticed that people maybe slightly confused as to what age Murtagh is in this fic. To clear up any misconceptions this is taking place in the Eldest. As to why I continually call Murtagh a 'child' and a 'teen' is that everyone in the books is either hundreds of years older, or just older in general. When talking to Eragon in Farthen Dur, he mentions that he left Galbatorix when he was 18, and my assumption is that by the Eldest he's 19. (Because Selene left Murtagh when he was three, and we know that Eragon turned 16 by the time he reached the Varden. So logically, there's a 3-4 year age gap. This is in that time before he turns 20 though it will occur soon) Although in modern society that would be enough to call him a 'young adult' in comparison to the other characters in the books he's quite young. Therefore he is still a 'child' to them. I'm sorry for any confusion that might have caused. 

Disclaimer: If I owned it, why would I be a fan, and writing on a fanfiction website, rather then sending it in to get published?

Chapter Two:

As he opened his eyes, he moaned slowly, shaking his head. The room was warm, so very warm. He sighed in content as he snuggled deeper into his feather pillow; eyes dropping closed once more. He vaguly remembered that he was to ride out with Ajihad in the morning, but the warmth and comfort of the room was to great to leave. His head was vibrating with pain, but he shrugged it off as an inapropriate hangover from the long nights of celebrating. He breathed in the lovely scent of jasmine ready to fall back to sleep; and that's when the shock hit him.

_Ajihad was dead,_ he had _watched_ him die, he had already rode out with the man when they were attacked. His head hurt because of the blinding strike he had recieved in the battle, and his room never smelled of jasmine for the memory of Uru'baen was to close to the surface for him to allow it. His room in the Beor Mountains smelled always of rain and lavender.

Now fully awake, he tried to push himself up. Panic forming in his chest as his breathing increased a ten fold. Eyes shot around the room terrified. The fireplace to his left that was always alight, the desk just beside it that was still packed with paper, and the simple dresser that was always kept neat with clothes for the next day already set out...this was not the Beor Mountains...this was his room. His room in the capital, and the presance of the man at the foot of his bed was all he needed to complete his terrified vision.

Gasping for air, he threw himself out of the bed, just as a hand reached to try to grab him. Unsteady legs liquified underneath him and the teen fell face first towards the ground. Arms shot out to keep from smashing his face open, and adrenaline pumping through his veins full force he crawled away. He managed to get to the corner of the room, eyes wide and frantic as he held his knees close to his chest.

"No...nonononono..." His body was shaking ferociously, and it only got worse when a hand touched his shoulder. Frantically he lashed out, punching forward without looking or thinking. The hand lifted somewhat, but then instead of the gentle touch that it used to be, it now was grabbing roughly, tugging upward and forcing the teen to his feet. Tears were running down the boy's face and his body felt numb and painful. His lungs felt hollow and he became increasingly aware of the terrible sensation that he couldn't breath. Black spots began to form, as he continued to gasp.

Suddenly his head and torso were pushed forward, and cold words told him to exhale slowly. How could he? Struggling against the hold, a sharp smack to the back of the head made him gasp. Again he was told to exhale, and this time he did so without complaint. Suddenly he felt his breath returning to him. He was to numb to think, and as he pushed himself up, he vaguly realized arms holding him close. His hands gripped at the tunic of the person in front of him. And until he calmed down enough to recognize he was being held, they stayed like that. A voice broke him from his daze.

"Now, are you going to hit me again if I release you?" The teen shook for a momment, but eventually managed to squeak out that he would not. Slowly he felt himself being let go from the hold, and led back to the bed where the man shoved him back under the covers. "You shouldn't be trying to walk, let alone run. Now stay still!" The man barked, stopping the teen's fidgeting. They sat in silence for a while before a knock at the door broke the quiet. The king looked up and snapped an 'enter.' Light poured into the room from the door and Murtagh hissed softly as it met his eyes. Then standing there infront of them were the Twins, and his eyes widened in shock.

"You - you're...but..." Galbatorix gave him a look to be quiet, and instantly his mouth shut.

"What do you want?" The king hissed, glaring at them.

"We just remembered something from the Rider's mind read." The Twins said slowly, eyes moving with relief to the teen who's back was pressed firmly against the headboard while his eyes were buldging at the sight of them.

"Go on." They were commanded.

"In front of...him...sir?" They asked, and the glare that was shot their way answered the question efficently. "The Rider's mother's name was Selena, and he does not know who his father is. We checked the records of Lord Morzan's concubine's-" Murtagh hissed at them, fists clenching. They blanched, but went on: "dissapearence. It coincides exactly. We believe that the Rider is Morzan's second son. The first, of course, being...him..." They waved towards Murtagh. Galbatorix immediatly silenced them before turning back to the boy who looked much paler then before.

"Should I even ask if you knew this?" He snapped, watching the teen flinch at the tone.

"Why should a King need to ask permission from someone beneath him?" came the quiet responce. Galbatorix's hand found the boy's hair and with a tug and a shove, Murtagh's head collided with the headboard, causing him to hiss in pain. While the pain was distracting him, he felt a sledge hammer begin to force it's way into his mind.

Hissing, he tried to concentrate only on the pain - knowing it was to late to change it to something else. A wall went up and the sledge hammer collided against it. Again he thought only of the pain in his head, and again the hammer forced it's way towards it.

However the King was not inept in knowing how to break past such well constructed walls. Where the Twins just relied on weakening their victim, his tactic was much more efficent. Taking his other hand he placed it on Murtagh's throat, begining to tighten his grip around the thin neck. Again, he thrust his mind at Murtagh's wall, only this time the wall crumbled with ease. The teen's mind was frantic, sending commands to his hands to claw at the one around his throat. It's franticness noticed to late that the walls were falling beneath Galbatorix's mind. As it tried to rebuild the structures, it was already to late to stop the King from accessing his childhood memories.

Forcing up walls while be strangled was not a task that was easy by any account. And while the King was forcing his way into the boy's mind, he had to give much credit to the teen's valiant efforts. As he reviewed all the memories that Murtagh had of his mother, he saw the barriors that kept him from seeing anything else. Finally the strangle was released, knowing that the boy needed to breathe sometime. He released the boy completely, and he fell onto the pillows shaking and gasping for air.

Tears were running down his face, knowing that now he truly had nothing. The only sanctuary he had ever had was destroyed by this man. His hands were clutching his body closer to himself; knees moving up to his chest.

"He did not know, which means that the Rider doesn't know. I suppose that now you've left the Varden, you cannot go back. Scribe down what you know, I will meet with you later." They bowed low and left. Galbatorix looked at the boy and sighed, before smirking despite himself. "Is your mind still your sactuary _now_?" With that he turned and left the room, before slamming the door shut and locking it. Leaning his head to the door and listening as a heart wrenching sob met his ears.

Inside the room Murtagh's mind was a mess, as he tried to comprehend the knowledge that was just thrust at him so unwantingly. Eragon...was his..._brother_.

Now with that peice of knews...and everything that had happened...how would he, could he, have anything left.


	3. Minas Del a Caran Lhug

Murtagh stood motionless in the throne room as Galbatorix stalked around him. He forced himself not to shiver nor to do anything in retaliation to the man. His presence alone was terrifying and he wanted nothing more then to be away from it. All the gaurds in the room had been dismissed, and they were the only ones in 100 square feet. The King sighed. He didn't want to do this, but if he just let the boy waltz back in after the betrayel then the public might think they could get away with treason. He would have to make an example out of him, and though he despertly wished that it hadn't come to this, he knew that it was inevitable. 

"Remove your tunic." The teen whirled around in shock. His hands were clutching the fabric close to his chest. It was one thing to remove his clothes in front of Ajihad - the man wasn't a mass murderer and wouldn't dare try to do something while Saphira and Eragon were there. However for this man, he could do no such thing willingly. Galbatorix glared. "You have leggings, I'm not asking you to take those off, but if you insist on standing there like a gaping fish then I'll remove it for you!" He made a move to do so, but the teen was already unhooking the clasps around his neck and _slowly_ becgan removing it (like the king knew he would.) For as much as the boy didn't want to take it off, he wanted far less for it to be forced off of him. When it was removed, the teen was commanded to set it aside, as he would not need it.

Standing there topless Murtagh shivered under the gaze. He heard from behind him the shuffling of objects from a desk beside the wall, and he forced himself not to turn. He did not want to know what was occuring behind him. Footsteps made their way towards him, and he shuddered visably as Galbatorix ran his nails lightly over the hideous scar on the boy's back.

"It's sad...what a father will do to their son." Galbatorix whispered quietly, his breath on his neck causing another shudder to rack the boy's body. The man raised his arm, and as the boy closed his eyes hugging his chest quietly, he dropped it. Pain shot through the teen's back, and he stumbled forward, hissing as he toppled onto the stairs to the throne. "Up." Barked the command, and Murtagh forced himself to his feat. Another lash soon appeared on his skin, and once more he fell to the floor. Once more, he was commanded back to his feat. His yells ceased, and now the teen was biting back the screams. He did not want any to take any pleasure from his pain.

The lashes kept falling, and finally after the eleventh blow, the child broke under the beating. As he was commanded to his feat, Murtagh looked up with wild eyes. His legs shot out first, kicking at the King's in one swift blow - forcing him to the ground. Then he bolted, going to the main door - locked. Turning quickly, and noting that Galbatorix was getting up, he charged towards the back door - locked. Only one door left and as he forced his body towards it, and was caught off gaurd when it opened.

Running through the doors and slamming them shut behind him, he locked it and leaned against it. Harsh breaths was the only thing left that he had, and he coughed harshly trying to regulate his short sharp gasps. Finally he managed to calm down enough to look around the room. It was then that his eyes came face to face with the largest creature he had ever seen. It's nose inches from his face, and smoke pouring from it's nostrils, the beast opened it's jaws and let out an ear peircing scream. Breath flying so fast out of it's mouth that Murtagh felt himself be lifted slightly from the ground and thrown back into the door, and as it stepped closer it's eyes flashed angrily and it growled furiously once more. Murtagh looked up at it, noting the distant but distict similarities between Saphira and Shruikan.

"Well...right..." He judged his chances. He was fairly certain that should he leave and go to Galbatorix once more he would be in a terrible amount of pain for the rest of his short life. However, if he stayed he would most certainly be killed. Then again, Shruikan could hear Galbatorix's thoughts, and so the dragon wouldn't kill him...would it? It took a step forward, eyes blazing with hatred. He moved to the side. "You...you can hear his thoughts cant you?" He asked, watching as the dragon paused. He continued to move farther from the door, walking backwards - eyes on the beast. "Will you kill me then? Is he telling you not to...or am I to die?" At this the great beast shook it's head, smoke pouring from it's nostrils. Murtagh took one more step back - heel hitting a stair. The door rattled. He looked at it, as did the dragon. Then their eyes met once more. "Or are you just going to keep me here...until he comes to kill me himself?" The dragon took a gigantic step forward, and he started to acend the stairs backwards - not knowing really where he was going. Suddenly the stairs stopped, and he looked around him, noticing he was in the center of the room. The dragon snorted, smoke flying from his nose - moving forward once more. "I'm sorry...could you tell him that? To the Rider...if you ever see him. The Rider on the blue dragon - Saphira. If you ever see them...could you tell them I'm sorry?" The dragon looked bemused for a momment, but then a loud and clear voice echoed in his head.

"Why do you not tell them yourself? Young one..." before Murtagh could say anything the beast let out a loud yell - just as the doors flew open and a curse was thrown. Hit by both curse and force, Murtagh flew backwards - slamming into a table of sorts and crashing to the floor. Suddenly a scream that could only have been a mixture of his own and the King's s voices in one echoed out into the room as a large stone case came crashing off the table and onto the teen. the Stone met his right arm - shattering it on impact. As the teen began to loose consciousness - he vaguly felt something warm rolling to his cest. His left arm, as if acting on it's own - covering it. Darkness took him.

Galbatorix stared at the teen before him. Blood smearing everything around him, stone planted firmly on his arm. One of the eggs had fallen from it's case, while the other was still inside of it - face down and sitting firmly on his now _shattered _arm. He sighed as he looked at the bloody and broken mess before him. Murtagh would surely die if he didn't get healed now. With a wave of his hand the stone case was lifted back onto the table. Moving to the boy he pulled the red egg from underneath him and placed it back inside of it. Then sinking back down he raised a hand and murmered the healing words.

As the wounds dissapeared, Galbatorix looked up at Shruikan and frowned.

"Why do you say such things to children who have no hope?" The dragon simply smirked at him, leaning closely and giveing the teen a soft nudge with his muzzle.

"Why do you continue to bring him back if all he does is run away?" With that Shruikan spread his giant wings and flew to the other end of the room, tucking his tail in and settling down to sleep.

Murtagh did not wake up for nearly two weeks, and in that time Galbatorix had suffered through roughly one heartattack, five migranes, and ten sleepless nights. He was actually begining the debate of why he even brought the kid back in the first place if all he ever caused was such chaos.

Three nights ago the King could not sleep no matter what he tried. He was pacing in the throne room when Shruikan started calling to him frantically. Telling him something was wrong with the eggs. Instantly he charged into the room and up the stairs expecting to see the eggs gone - but was granted with another site all together. The red egg was shaking in it's seat in the case. Soon lines started forming and all of a sudden a head popped out. Then a body. The baby looked up, expecting to see his chosen, only to stare into the face of the king. Frowning the baby hiccuped some smoke and ended up knocking himself off the table all together.

Shruikan leaned down and looked the baby in the face. Red eyes looking into his black, the baby boy seemed to smile and he hopped onto the elderly dragon's nose - wings draping over it's muzzel. Galbatorix sent a command for the dragon to fly to Murtagh's chambers with the baby, and he would meet him there.

Quickly the two set off, and when the baby dragon was safely inside the unconscious teen's chambers it hiccuped once more - this time with glee - and once more knocked itself off of the surface it was sitting on (only this time it was Murtagh's bed). Galbatorix watched, facinated at the appearence of the first baby dragon he had seen in hundreds of years. The red creature popped itself back on the bed and pushed his head into the boy's hand. Instantly light filled the room, and when it dissapated, the Gedway ignasia glowed strong on the teen's hand.

Baby dragon snuggled beside the teen, hiccuping smoke again, and this time falling right into the boy's tired arms. Finally feeling contentment, the baby fell asleep happy.

It was only after the fact, when the baby continued to hiccup amazing amounts of smoke for such a young one, that eventually Murtagh's shirt caught on fire nearly burning half the skin on his shoulder away. From there the baby continued to knock over priceless glass objects and reek havok on the maids who attempted to clean up the room.

When the boy finally did awake, and see the dragon for the first time, the baby leapt into his arms and ended up knocking him not only off the bed - but caused his head to smash into a bedside table effectivly knocking him out once more. Finally Galbatorix had had enough, and demanded that Shruikan manage to keep the baby not only away from Murtagh until he finally woke up (again), but to keep him from destroying anything else.

That ended badly to, as the rambunctious baby knocked over the final egg at least three times, and continued to bite the old war dragon in places where he shouldn't have. That on it's own earned the tiny red creature a good shake from his tail - which ended up creating a slight curve to it that was more so then the average dragon.

The King finally remembered why he hated babies so much...and it was the simple fact that they just manage to cause destruction every where they went.

Windstar: Disclaimer will always be the same for I have no reason to change it.


	4. Man eneth lín?

Murtagh opened his eyes hastelessly. He remembered the beating quite well, but everything after that seemed foggy to him. He remembered running towards the doors, finding them locked, and then nothing...Groaning, he struggled to lift his right hand to his head, finding it numb and resiliant to movement. There was a movement to his side, and turning his head to see who it was, he groaned seeing the king. He grabbed, none to gently, his arm and looked at it for a momment before dropping it across the teen's chest. Which only earned a growl from the young boy. 

"You're an imbecile do you know that? Only you could have managed to drop that case on yourself. Everyone else has the sense to stay away, but you? Oh no, gods forbid you actually do something right and sane. Did you want to get yourself killed?"

"Yes." He replied quietly, left hand massaging his injured arm. The memories were drifting back to him in their own time, but he did remember faintly falling back into the table and somethign hard sending torturous pain up his arm. Galbatorix blanched, and for a while they just sat there in silence.

"Your arm...the bone was turned into powder from the impact. I healed the bone structure itself, however I wasn't able to see if there was any nerve damage. How does it feel?"

"Why should I tell you?" Galbatorix brought a tired hand to his head and sighed. He wasn't sure who was more annoying, the Rider or his pip-squeak dragon that had a knack for destruction.

"Because if you dont, I'll force it out of your head, and all that's going to cause is you to brood for a few more hours, and for me to get more tired then I already am. Now can we skip this pathetic act and just get on with the fact that your arm is injured and I need to know to what extent?"

"Why do you care?" Murtagh shot back, moving his working hand to his right shoulder and squeezing it; his back pressed firmly against the headboard.

"So many useless questions, do you really want me to break through your 'sanctuary' again, I will do it." The boy shuddered as he advanced, knowing he couldn't escape the touch he stared firmly at the fireless furnace. Hand touched his head, and he forced his mind to concentrate on the wall. However even walls break under the wrath of the king and his mighty sledge hammer. Sighing once more, the king removed his palm - placing it instead on his own brow. "Why couldn't you just have _told _me that it was numb, istead of dragging on this miserable experience?" The boy stayed silent, lips clenched tight as he shook in shock from the assault. The elder man sighed and rubbed a wrinkled hand through his hair, acknowledging fully that the boy was more stubborn then the brick wall he had envisioned

"Come with me. I have something to show you." The man muttered, dragging the boy after him as he thrust open the doors and made his way to the throne room and Shruikan. Once inside, Murtagh soon found himself with an armful of something red and scaly. It took him a momment before realizing what it was. "It hatched...while you were asleep. If you will look at your palm -" He was to late, the boy was already staring at the symbol he had not noticed when he first awoke.

"It cannot be..." He whispered quietly, as the baby hiccuped against his chest.

"Start believing boy. That dragon is yours. Better give it a name. Then we'll discuss your...training..." He waited for the weight of the words to hit the boy. When Murtagh looked up at him in surprise, he noticed that it was not as large as he had origionally believed. "Think of it this way. When you bring your brother to me, you wont be completely alone. You'll have someone you can talk to...train with."

"What makes you think I would do something like that?" Galbatorix sighed. It was a dirty trick that he was going to use now, and if he wanted the boy to trust him at all he knew this was not the way to do it. Still, Murtagh was right - there was no way the teen would willingly capture his newfound brother and bring him before the king in Uru'Baen.

"Did your father ever tell you that when you were born he did everything in his power to keep you safe?" Murtagh looked at him surprised for a momment, and he opened his mouth to retort - but was cut off. "No, be silent boy." His mouth shut and the teen looked down at the dragon. "It was why he kept you hidden all of your life, why he never let you see anyone. He didn't want you to be taken and tortured for who you were. He did not want you to live a life in fear because of the rebels. He took you to the mountains when you were first weened from breast milk. While there he built a tower and hid you inside of it. It was a tower that only he, his servents, gaurds, and I knew about. He then placed a spell on the tower. None who did not know it, could enter." Murtagh looked at Galbatorix listening intently, for he did not know much about that tower. He stayed mostly in his room reading instead of venturing around it. "It is customary, for heirs of great houses to bare the mark of their family. However, instead of marking you, he did the only thing that he knew would keep you safe. He extracted the one peice of information from your mind that if you ever knew, if it ever fell into the wrong hands...would kill you eventually. He put your mind through terrible torture, only yeilding when he could no longer recognize his child's voice or the light in his eyes. Murtagh shivered trying to recall the events, but failing. "Finally, he discovered the small bit of information that he knew would turn against you some day. Then...skillfully, so skillfully...he reconstructed your broken mind. He placed all the peices back together - all accept one place was the way it should be. For around this small section of your subconscious - he walled in, barricaded it so fiercly and so well, that it would be impossible to shatter and impossible to remember. To this day, you do not remember the events that took place those long long nights in the tower's southwest corner. Do you?" Murtagh strained to remember this time, strained to recover the lost detail, strained to try to see the wall he had not even recognized all these years. Yet his efforts were futile, and he could not recall anything. He shook his head to the question, looking back at the dragon who had taken to trying to bite one of his fingers and use it as a licking toy. He tapped the baby on the head and shook his own to show no. The creature huffed, and wriggled from his hands - hopping back to the elderly dragon in the corner. "I thought not. However, now what should he do with this knowledge that he had forbidden his own son from knowing? He told no one is what he did. He did not even tell your mother. However, before he died, one man knew did know..." At this the teen met Galbatorix's eyes. For a momment they had a stand off, both their dragons now staring at them with increasing intensity. Murtagh's eyes were challenging - as if daring Galbatorix to speak the words that they both knew he knew. Galbatorix was eyeing the teen, wondering if those eyes would ever change.

"This man, being you?" Galbatorix smirked.

"No." Murtagh faltered, not sure what to do. "He kept that terrible secret that would kill his son until the day he died." He paused, waiting for the words to sink in. Murtagh's brow furrowed in thought, then it hit him.

"Brom!" He exclaimed in shock, recoiling as he felt the impact hitting him like a punch.

"Brom." The King agreed. "Just momments before you ran into that room, and saw that man standing over your father as he died. Just momments before Aji'had tore you from your father's body and knocked you sensless - your greatest secret was revealed."

"Why would he tell Brom? That was what he wanted isn't it? To die with this thing he discovered?"

"It was not on purpose. Never think that he would throw your future away to this rebel. His final thought was of his son, and only his son. So when he knew he would die, all he wanted was to see you once more. Even though you were not even in ear shot, he whispered your name and bade you to come. As that blade was driven into your father's heart, you had been called by this name - and you did come. That was his final sight, as he died. His little boy standing in the doorway in shock."

"But Brom dissapeard...you never found him again...he died taking that name with him." He said tyring to put the peices together.

"No...that is what you would hear, but that is not what happened. We did find him, and we struck a deal with him." Galbatorix smirked. "You honestly think that he would have escaped after killing my right hand man? You honestly think that he would get away with that?" Murtagh bit his lower lip, clearly upset by the words. "No, I extracted the information I needed from him, and then released him. I think you should thank me...Mith-hwesta o nar." Like a punch hitting his back the words shot from his chest faster then he'd ever responded before.

"Thank you sire!" So shocking were the words that he was forced onto his knees and stayed there shaking terribly. His mind suddenly exploded in a torrent of fire his hands went to his head. It felt as if the entirety of Uru'baen was in his head as it was being torn apart by all of the Empire's foes. There was screeching from beside him, and something warm started to force itself into his lap. He felt tears falling from his eyes as he sat there fore gods knows how long - weeping as his mind convulsed again and again. His father's spells and incantations that had kept him oblivous all his many years could not protect him from the truth that was so rapidly approaching. He no longer needed the barriors if he knew what lay behind them. As they fell he felt his entire body tensing as it was wraked over and over again with fire and pain.

He just wept on as the migraine grew more and more. Suddenly warm arms wrapped around him, warm arms to someone from so long ago. He could not recall the wanting to be held any stronger then this momment. This momment when those powerful arms were wrapped around him, and the strange sensation hit him as he was not weeping any longer. Yet the sounds remained, for he was no longer in Uru'baen. He was no longer in the king's presance with a baby dragon in his lap. He was no longer a strong man of nineteen, but rather a frail child of three.

He lay so still, his head resting in this stranger's lap as their arms were wrapped around his head. He lay there without moving, and though he once thought his eyes were open - they were now closed. All he could hear was the harsh and terrible sounds of a grown man weeping with no resolve. He blinked slowly, all thoughts of pain and agony gone. His hands twitched in front of his face, and he groaned as the day began for his tired body. His head popped up, and suddenly the memory of lying on the floor of the main hall was swept from his memory as the sight of the pitiful man holding him gently was laid out before him. So much like a young cub, going to see if their father was alright, he raised an tiny paw and placed it on the man's cheek. Dark eyes opened and looked at the tiny blue ones that were staring so loveingly at him.

"Papa? Why are you crying?" The man held his son's gaze for a momment longer, as tears continued to fall from his eyes. Then he pulled the child from his lying down position, with his head resting on his lap, up so the boy was being cradeled close to his chest.

"Oh child...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." If the boy knew what he was talking about, then perhaps he would have cared, but for now he simply wrapped his tiny paws around the man's neck and snuggled his head to the broad chest.

"It's okay Papa. It'll be fine. Dont worry! Why are you sad papa?" he asked gently, as the man held him close. Taking his two little paws, he cupped the older man's face and smiled happily. "It's okay papa, dont worry, whatever you did it shall be fine. Everything always turns out better, in the end." If possible, the man cried harder now, gripping the child closer to his chest as he wept more and more.

"Child-mine, now can you ever forgive me? After what I have done? Do you not remember child?" The little boy looked up at him with truthful eyes and simply smiled large.

"Papa, if you cry like this every time you loose my ball then we shall have to collect your tears and make a river!" Now the man simply was broken to shreds. Confirming that the boy did not remember the incident was almost worse then the incident itself. It showed how much damage he had done. Poor little boy believed that this was about that silly game of catch where Morzan had thrown the ball out one of the tower windows by accident - succesfully loosing the child's second out of four balls that his mother had given him only one week before. He simply had no concept of the monstrosity that took place so soon after that event. Still, how could he tell this babe...this child so young and innocent that he honestly accepted all around him. He could not...

Murtagh closed his eyes, allowing his body to be held so gently by this man that he had every faith in. However as the lids opened again, the dream was gone. He was not in his beautiful room at the top of the tower, that oversaw all the beauty of the mountains around him. He was in Uru'baen. And it was not his father whom he had loved so much who held him, no...it was the king.

As Murtagh lay motionless in the man's arms, he thought more of his father. The memories that were locked inside his mind, now unlocked. For before there was hate...hate for the man who placed the scar on his back, hate for the man who marked his existance for the rest of his life...there was love. An unyeilding love for a gentle father who wanted nothing more then his son to be happy. How clearly he could see it back then, back when it was only them on the mountainside, back before his mother found the scar on his back. Back before she and his father fought. Back before he struck her down and yelled for her to mind her own buisness and to stay out of his. Back before he stood in the doorway, watching as his father became The Monster. Back before his father looked up from his mother's weeping form to lock eyes with him. Back before his mask had shattered. Back before he left...before his mother left...before he was all alone...with a scar...that he didn't even remember getting.

Windstar: After doing some research, I uncovered that the name 'Murtagh' litterally translates to 'Sea Warrior' in gaelic. I then translated that into 'Aear ohtar' literally meaning sea warrior. However Aear ohtar did not sound as beautiful as I wished it to be, and so I translated the word for 'silver' and added it to the name. Then I pondered further coming to the realization that the name itself did not fit. Murtagh was not a sea warrior, he was meant to be a 'sky' warrior. One who lives in the air, and fights by it. I further delved into my studies, and decided that instead of my origional choosing of his 'true name' litterally as: Silver Sea Warrior, or Calebaearohtar (pronounced): kehl-ehb eye-are oh-tar.

I decided on this: Mith-hwesta o nar (pronounced): meeth - hwe-stah oh nahr. Which litterally translates to: Grey Breeze of Fire. It seemed appropriate.

From this point onward, whenever something is mentioned in the Ancient Language, it will not be translated in the text itself. If you wish to read the translation, please see the below font in the "author's note" section of the chapter.

If you are miffed by the exact translation of his name, then I apologize. However, the name itself seemed appropriate.

Also, it has come to my great displeasurable attention that a large quantity of people who read this story do not have the energy to write a review for it. All I ask is for one word. "good" or "bad." Preferably good. If you so desire to write more, then please do. For looking at the story's stats and seeing i'm getting over 100 hits for a chapter, and several alerts - but no reviews only makes me wonder if you _really _want me to continue.

I have a bad habit of loosing intrest in a story. It would be, in your _best intrest _if you review. It makes me a happy person. Also, if you dont, then I write crappy because I have no desire to write well for an unresponsive audience.

This is the first of many stories that I'm _begging _for a review. Please aquiest to my request.


	5. Man lû vin achenitham?

Windstar: I've always tried to think of the general tone of the stories I write, and apply a song to them. After careful consideration, I have decided that this fic is best represented by the song 'hurt' sung and created by Johnny Cash. Please listen to it and if you have any further suggestions as 'tone songs' then feel free to tell me. Disclaimer: Same as always 

Murtagh's eyes never shone with the same light after that day. Ever since he knew his future would always be controlled by someone he hated, he constantly saw the world differently. However it was not just that that ailed the boy. His mind had litterally fallen apart. Memories were constantly asailing him. Memories that he had pushed to the back of his memory and forced himself to forget. Memories that were barracaded behind that invisible wall. Memories that Galbatorix had hidden from him when he first came to him as a shell shocked little boy of four.

The king had briefly explained to him that Murtagh litterally was trapped inside his own barricades when he first arrived. That the only way to get the boy to eat or to dress or move was to banish parts of his mind from him. Make it so he had something that would drive him and give him purpose, rather then have him completely be destroyed under the weight of what he had seen.

Instead of witnessing his father's death, and then being knocked out - he was told that news came of his father's death while he was away. Kind momments that Morzan had shown the boy were banished - for if he did not love his father, the he would not grieve for his father's death.

However now all the spells that had encased his mind were broken, and he was left with the terrible truth that had been kept from him. Galbatorix could only watch as he trudged on, motivated only by the calling of his true name or the nudging of his baby dragon who was growing in more ways then one.

The dragon, whom was eventually named Thorn after the roses that he shared the color of, roses that were ever present in that tower of dark. Slowly the hyperactive creature began to mature and he became extremely devoted to his Rider. He would follow the boy and keep him safe from the dangers that his shattered mind could not realize. And in the darkness of the night, when Murtagh would curl into a ball on his bed and just weep until dawn - the dragon would rest his muzzel close to the boy so he could grasp something and find comfort in it.

Constantly the teen would be found staring at something that seemed of little importance,yet when asked (if he replied) he would weave an elaborate tale that would make many turn heads in wonder. Often these tales were memories that had been released. Memories that he would have honestly forgotten had he had the chance but now were engraved into his permanent memory forever.

Galbatorix held lessons daily for the teen. He trudged through them lesson by lesson - memorizing all he was taught and then being left alone for the long toiling days of forgotten thought. Often he would be seen sitting alone on the roof of the south-west tower and though it was not the same from his memory, it brought him strange comfort. It was supposed to be fear wasn't it? Fear from the man that had tortured his mind to find his name - to save him. However all he truly felt now was loss. Loss for never truly understanding the man while he lived.

Laying back on the Tower's shingles old poems whispered through the wind. He would stare up at the stars, recalling times that had long since past. He remembered when his mother and father had that final argument before Morzan left.

_He had been anxisously waiting for his mother to come home. He saw her only every three months when she spent a week at the tower and then left again. He sat out in his room, looking over the tower perimeter and searching for the spot on the horizon that would signify his mother's arrival. It had been four hours since he first propped himself up on the window seat. Still, nothing met his wary eyes._

_Yawning tiredly, he looked out once more. Finally the sight of a white horse could be seen on the horizon. There beside it was a brown horse that the boy easily recognized as his father's steed: Beleg. Yipping in excitement, the tiny child burst through the door in his room. Dodging past servants and the occasional gaurd the tiny human pranced towards the doors - throwing them open with a triumphant heave. Running across the planes without a care towards his best tunic, he tripped gaily in the mudd and shoved himself back to his feet to meet the oncoming horses._

_The white horse - Meldavanya - picked up it's pace and shot forward, Beleg soon following. The boy smiled happily as he recognized the stoic and calm features on his mother's dear face. Her beautiful brown hair tumbling lightly from it's loose hold. Her hazel eyes shimmering with glee. Her own riding dress was neatly kept even as it was tussled from the long ride. Finally they were only yards away and she lept from the horse and rushed to her babe. Pulling the boy into her arms she lifted him high into the air spinning him around before clutching Murtagh close to her chest. The babe squealed with delight, tiny hands wrapping around her alabaster neck._

_"Oh my son, my star! How are you? Are you well? What have you done in my absence? Tell me little Fire-Angel!" She asked in delight, hands loosing themselves in his hair. She placed him back on the ground but knelt to be at his level. Off to the side, Morzan smiled at the sight. Climbing from Beleg and moving over towards his family, he bent down and wrapped his arms around them._

_Inside the tower Selena smiled at the mudd covered boy, and taking him by the hand moved towards his room. Murtagh was rambling off everything he had done and seen since she last came to visit. As they entered his room, she went to his desk and began to remove the fine clothes that lay withen. The boy bent and undid his shoes as his mother began to unlace his tunic. Sliding the fabric from his shoulders she moved to place it to the side when her eyes caught something on his back._

_The yell of horror as she exclaimed his name in shock could not be helped. Nor could she prevent her hands from forcing the boy to hold still as her eys stared at the long and twisting scar that ran down his back. Immediatly footsteps were heard and the door was thrust open as Morzan stepped inside - Zar'oc in hand. Then he saw the look of horror on his lady's face and could not stop the guilt from reaching his face as he knew what she discovered._

_Murtagh turned his head, confused. His dark eyes looking up at his mother sadly._

_"Mama? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" The woman met his eyes with tears in her own, arms pulling him close to her chest as she lifted him into a tight hold and backed away slowly. Morzan watched her with growing tension._

_"What in gods name have you done to him?" She shrieked, clutching the boy closer to her. Murtagh wrigled in her grasp, arms being crammed into uncomfertable positions._

_"Valadhiel..." He whispered softly, the pet name usually calming the woman from any on comming tirade. However not now, not with that disfiguration on the boy's back._

_"What have you done to my son!?" She yelled louder, shaking slightly as Murtagh whimpered in her hold._

_"Mama, you're hurting me..." He said quietly, trying once more to break his arms free. Morzan's eyes glanced at the shirtless boy and he heaved a heavy sigh._

_"There was an accident..." He whispered, taking a step forward. Salena drew back more until her legs hit the banister that led to a sure death fall below. Salena glared in rage hugging him tighter._

_"Mama let me go!" The child screamed, writhing as a angry bear cub. His little paws striking her brest as her legs suffered harsh kicks to ensure the release. Yelping in surprise she dropped the boy as he kicked once more - force throwing him to the right. His torso hitting the banister, and crying out in surprise he felt himself falling. Both his parents screamed in horror as he flew from the ledge. Morzan shouted out the words as he rushed to the edge, knowing he didn't have enough time._

_"Letta Murtagh!" Without seeing if the words had worked, he commanded again. "Risa!" It took several momments, but then to the parent's relief the child was soon back on the balcony. He was unharmed physically, but was wailing uncontrollably and was shaking terribly. Morzan's arms found the boy before Selena had a chance to get to him. Wrapping his arms round the boy and walking back into the room towards the bed Morzan whispered sweet words to his son._

_It took hours for the boy to stop shivering. In that time several glasses of hot sweet tea had been gulped down.Now gripping his father's tunic close he breathed slowly - near sleep. Selena sat by the boy's side, not able to deny the trust and faith the child had in his father. She looked at the Forsworn, sighed and kissed her son gently. Standing and moving towards the door. Motioning for Morzan to follow. The man hesitated only a momment before kissing the child's brown murmering a few comforting words before padding silently after the lady._

_Murtagh lay in bed quietly for a momment, before tears came back again. He sniffled, pushing the tears back. Sliding out of the bed he tiptoed towards the door. Opening it he made it to his father's study. Once there he peered inside, watching quietly the terrible fight that was occuring._

_There were his parents, screaming insanities at each other as they butted heads. His father's fists were clenched tight as Selena barraged him with attacks of his honor and how dare he allow such harm to befall their child. When Selena demanded to know the exact way that Murtagh had recieved such a mark, Morzan's eyes darkened. The boy barely heard the words as he spoke them._

_"I had recieved news of a mission I must go on...I did not wish to have the assignment, but knew i must take it...I got drunk...I am sorry...I..." He did not need to finish as a harsh smack was lain across his face. Selena was shaking in rage._

_"You did this?! You did that to _my_ son?!" His own rage boiled as Morzan shouted that Murtagh was his son as well. "You obviously dont care about him if you can do that monstrosity to him!" Selena challanged rage clouding her mind._

_"_Obviously_!" The man scoffed. "That's _obviously _it, I _hate_ my only child, and purposly _want_ him to be harmed in the_ worst _possible ways." Murtagh stood frozen in the doorway, even as he saw his mother storming to leave. Even as the door was opened and both his parents saw his wide eyes and his freshly tear stained cheeks. His eyes looked past his shocked mother, and into the eyes of his mortified father. "Murtagh-"_

_"You...dont care about me papa? You want me to get the hurts?" Fat tears escaped their prison and flooded his cheeks as he turned and ran down the hallway and into his room. He slammed his bedroom door closed, locking it behind him and collapsing against it as he sobbed brokenly. He knew his father was at the door before he had even spoken. He had listened to the steps his father made for his whole life. The man sighed and leaned on the other side of the door._

_"Murtagh...? Can I come in?" He asked quietly._

_"No."_

_"Please son..."_

_"No!"_

_"Let me talk to you." Murtagh sniffled, and didn't reply. His father muttered "Edro" and the door unlocked and easily opened slightly. The man walked in, closing the door, and sitting beside his child. "Murtagh...What I said back there...I didn't mean those words."_

_"You said always say truth." The distraught boy snapped back, head burried in his knees._

_"I know son...but, in this language...it's easy to say things you dont mean. Sometimes it just happens...please...look at me?" The boy shook his head - still in his knees - causing his body to shake all at once. "Alright. You know the other language?"_

_"The one you cant say no lies?" The boy whispered._

_"The same." Morzan reached out slowly, catching the boy's face in his palm and easing the boy to meet his eyes. "Le Melon, Murtagh." The boy looked confused. "It means I love you. I cannot lie in that language. I will not lie now. Please...believe me."_

_"How do I know you not lie when you say in this language? You say anything in that, but in this you can lie." The boy asked with pleading eyes. Morzan stiffened. It was true, he had no way of proving that his words were not false._

_"Do you think I would wish pain on you child?" Murtagh shook his head quickly, more tears begining to slip past his eyes. "I do not."_

_It took several hours, but eventually Murtagh was finally falling to sleep once more. Before he did though, his fater gently whispered to the boy the news that he had put off until the last minute possible._

_"Murtagh...I need to go away for a while..." The boy's tired eyes lifted as they gazed his father's face. "The King wishes me to go on a mission for him."_

_"When will you be back...?" Morzan's heart clenched as he heared the innocent question that he dreaded._

_"I do not know." Murtagh sighed softly. His father had a duty to the king, even if the boy did not wish him to._

_"When are you leaving?"_

_"Tommorrow."_

_Morzan left the next morning, waking him only to say goodbye. Selena talked with the man before he left, and from what Murtagh could see, heated words were exchanged. He managed to catch several from where he hid. _

_"...I'm going to take him." - His mother. "He's not safe here..."_

_"You will do no such thing woman." _

_"He's only going to be in danger here!" Morzan raised a hand silencing her. He waved it towards their son's hiding place._

_"Little rabbits have big ears...quiet..."_

_Selena left only a day later. She too said goodbye, but did not take the boy with her. _

Murtagh pulled himself from the memory, blinking up at the stars before him. The next time he saw his mother, she was dying. The next time he saw his father...he _was_ dead. Pushing himself to his feet from where he lay, he moved back to his room. He sighed slowly, wondering if he had never recieved the scar would Selena have told his father of Eragon...

Windstar: Thank you to everyone who dealt with my rant, it made me happy to get more reviews. I'd appreciate it if you continue reviewing, and have a happy new year once more.


	6. mellon e goth

Windstar: I would like to give my humble apologies to everyone who's read this fic. I have been using the dreaded notepad to write in while my Microsoft word was down…Notepad as many know does _not _have a spell check. When Microsoft was updated and I transferred everything to Word…I became aware of a _large _number of spelling errors that do not usually happen in my writings. I am _extremely _sorry for this, and promise whole heartedly that it will not happen again.

Adron yawned as he leaned against the dark and dank wall of his prison. He wondered faintly what his family was doing and if they thought he was dead. This marked the fifth day he had been taken by the slavers. Until that day he had not seen any sign of anyone else besides him. That was before (of course) the door had opened and a body had been thrown into the room and then closed once more. For the past few hours he'd done everything he could think of to wake the unmoving figure, but then simply shrugged it off. And now there he was - leaning on the wall.

He sighed, running a hand over his face before noting the tremors that ran through the boy's body beside him. Leaning over he peered at the brunette's face, watching as dark eyes opened. The boy groaned, bringing a hand to touch his bruised forehead as his knees tucked to his chest.

Adron smirked, rubbing his own hand through his tussled hair. He gave the boy a once over. He looked about seventeen, pale skin, and dark eyes giving off a very mysterious aura. His hair was a deep brown, practically black, and his hands were oddly delicate yet had a slightly rough look to them.

"Hey kid…you alright?" He nearly laughed as the boy jumped, and spun his head to face him. Adron frowned however, noting the uneven and disoriented look in the boy's eyes.

"Who are you…?" He let out the breath he was holding during the wait for the response, he had wondered how coherent the kid was.

"Adron, son of Almiar at your humble service my _lord_." He smirked at the blank look on the teen's face. When he got no response he simply rolled his eyes mumbling something about how kids can't take a joke anymore. "I'm a captive, same as you. Nice shiner you got there by the way, can you see straight?"

"That…depends…" He waited for him to continue. "are…there two of you…?" Adron shook his head with a sigh.

"There's just one of me. Only one in here if you're wondering, but you've definitely got yourself a case of rattled brains..." Again a blank look made him huff at the insanity of it all. "You feeling alright kid?" The boy mumbled something, trying to push himself up and failing. "Didn't catch that, what'd you say?"

"'m not a kid…"

"Sure you aren't. What are you, sixteen? Seventeen max?"

" m nineteen!" The boy hissed as Adron cuffed him under the arm and drew him into a sitting position. "Twenty in three moons…"

"You must be joking? Sure it's not your rattled brains, Stew Head? I'm twenty-one, and I know from experience that I didn't look like that at nineteen."

"You're…the Stew Head…my brains…are fine…" Adron accepted the retort, concentrating on keeping the teen talking with that nasty head wound of his.

"What's your name kid?"

"'m not a kid!"

"Fine. What's your name _child_?" He watched with satisfaction as a scowl planted itself firmly on the teen's face.

"Murtagh, son of _Morzan_ first and last of the Forsworn." Adron kept a reasonably blank face at him for the longest time, watching his scowl grow deeper. "What, no retorts on my heritage?"

"Oh I'm _so _sorry, forgive me. 'Oh my gods! You're that terrible monster's son? Whatever is wrong with you!? Bring out the tar and feathers we must parade you through town and show our displeasure with scowling faces!" Despite the terrible headache and the awkwardness of the situation, Murtagh let out a deep laugh. Soon Adron joined him in the mirth; sitting back on his heals as he pushed the teen's hair from his face to get a better look at his wound.

It wasn't until later that the teen realized that that laugh was his first laugh since his capture from the Varden.

"You're not afraid?"

"Should I be? Should I be quaking in my boots? I'll remember to do so once I get them back from our lovely friends behind that door there." The chuckle that was to occur disappeared in a hiss as Adron's hand lightly touched the deep bruising. "Bet you have a nice headache there Tag-boy."

"You're insistent on giving me a horrendous nickname aren't you?"

"My mama once said that my persistence was going to be the death of me. When you get out of here, you're not going to hang me are you?" Murtagh shook his head, finding the other humorous in this annoyingly awful situation. "So, how'd you end up here Oh Great Son of Someone I Should Fear?"

"Bad promise…" Murtagh mumbled cupping his head with his hands.

"Well…that's an interesting way to get caught. What happened? You promised you'd go with those slavers for a way out of the palace and the next thing you know here you are?" Murtagh glared and Adron just shrugged leaning against the wall with a sigh. "Hey, you clarify, not like I can read your mind."

"How is this any of _your _business?" Adron smirked.

"It's not, but I don't feel like talking, and if one of us doesn't then it's going to be a rather loong and boring wait." Murtagh huffed and wrapped his arms around his knees as he brought them to his chest.

Neither spoke for a while, Adron taking to thumb twiddling, Murtagh trying to clear his muddled mind long enough to make a connection to the now four month old dragon. However when that proved futile, he glared at the older person beside him who now was trying to whistle.

"If I tell you, will you stop that goddamn noise?" The brunette snapped. Adron agreed with a bit to much cheer in his voice and Murtagh groaned as he leaned heavily against the wall.

"_Murtagh…your training has gone very well so far…don't you think?" Galbatorix asked as he leaned back on his chair at the head of the table, hands toying with a plum that was picked from his plate. _

_Murtagh, who was to busy poking (stabbing with minimal effort) his own fruit with his fork, looked up blankly – nodding regardless. It didn't really matter what he thought, the King would continue on without stopping. Thorn had grown large enough to ride some time ago, but since then; the lessons had been endless, and had been leaving him gasping for breath at the end of them. He felt Thorn touch his mind and he suppressed the longing to communicate with the dragon. _

"_I have decided…to send you on your first mission." The teen looked up from his massacre of fruit by use of fork. Galbatorix almost laughed, eyes inspecting the destruction that had taken place. _

"_What must I do…sire?" _

"_There's this village…I'm sure you know the one. That has been causing me some grief for the past few years…You remember…it was the first mission I asked you to do." Murtagh paled considerably as the memories assaulted him once more. _

"_Sire I cannot-"_

"_Mith-hwesta o nar you _will _do as I say." The king hissed irritably. _

"_Sire…please…I do not wish to fight…" The king frowned. _

"_What?"_

"_I do not wish to fight anymore…especially not innocents."_

"_Don't want to fight…hm?" Galbatorix looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. "Then swear you will not fight until you swear otherwise to me." Murtagh looked stunned at the suggestion. _

"_You…you're going to let me not fight anymore?" He vaguely heard Thorn's caution in his mind. _

"_Swear you will not fight until you swear otherwise to me, and I will change your missions." Immediately the words were spoken in the ancient language. "I want you to walk down to the southern district…do not wear anything that will make you recognizable by anyone. Thorn will not be going with you. This is not a request. Do it Mith-hwesta o nar." _

Leaving out what his true name actually was, as well as the fact he was a Rider, Murtagh completed his tale saying that while in the district he was jumped and knocked out as he was not able to fight back. The next thing he knew he was here.

"Where are we…by the way?" Adron shrugged and took a deep breath.

"I was out when they brought my father and me here as well. He's somewhere in this place, that's all I know. That's quite a tale you've got there. I assume you don't have a very nice relationship with our Lord and Sovereign."

"No…no I don't."

"Well, good, that makes two of us." With a laugh Adron looked at Murtagh's pale face, frowning. "You don't look to good. You're pretty pale."

"'m cold…" The teen muttered, shivering against the stone. Adron nodded slightly, before removing his long sleeved wool shirt. He tossed it at the boy, who barely caught it. "You'll be cold now."

"What? You kidding? I'm _The Great Adron son of Almiar _I don't get cold." The older man said unconvincingly as he sniffled and sneezed. Murtagh shook his head, and draped it over the man. Moving closer so the two sat side by side, they managed to drape the shirt – mostly on Adron – over themselves so they were both minimally comfortable.

Murtagh did have to smile though…for the first time since his mental attack…the pieces finally felt like they were going back together.

Windstar: This will not be a slash fic. I detest them greatly. This will have no such content in it. The relationship between Adron and Murtagh will remain strictly on a friendship _only_ level.


	7. Tua amin!

Disclaimer: When I publish my own book, and for some reason write a 'fanfiction' on for it. Then I'll gladly say THIS IS MY BOOK but until then…I have the must distinct pleasure to say that Eragon and Eldest are not mine, for if they were… the main character wouldn't be so much of a jerk throughout the story…

Chapter seven:

Murtagh sighed looking around the room. It was dull and dreary, and the chill wasn't getting much better. He looked down at the man beside him. They were similar in appearance however; Adron's face was rounder and his eyes (when opened) were brighter.

It was then, during the quiet moments of captivity, that a constant pressing at his conscience made him realize that someone very familiar was frantically trying to contact him. In fact, the franticness of this particular contact was so enormous that said contacter was flying above the city scaring crying out as he did so. This would be all well and good, except that this particular cry sounded suspiciously like an angry roar and the civilians of aforementioned city were currently praying to the gods to save them from the perdition of their lives.

_Yes dearest?_ Murtagh asked trying to ease the young and frantic dragon's fears.

Where _have you _been_? Galbatorix is throwing a fit, I'm out of my mind with worry, you haven't contacted me in four days, Shruikan's ready to burn the city to the ground to stop Galbatorix from launching a full scale massacre to find you, you've blocked all communication, your mind is fuzzy, and the last thing I heard from you is that you were in pain!_ The dragon yelped as he swooped once more over the city, eyes frantically searching for what they couldn't see.

_Well, I'm sorry that Shruikan's upset, do tell him that I'm alright and he shouldn't worry about me to much or Daddy Galbatorix may believe he actually cares for my existence. Cant have that can we?_

_You're mocking me!_

_Indeed I am Thorn. Calm down, I'm alright._

_Where are you? Do you know that at least?_

_I'm not that alright._

_What's wrong with your head?_

_Slight concussion, nothing serious._

_What in gods' names happened to you Murtagh?_

_Do you want me to answer you seriously, or would you like the drawn out exaggerated and lengthy tale of the many evils I faced in order to have this blessed conversation with you? _There was a long pause, and Murtagh sat up straight, easing himself to his feat. Adron mumbled in his sleep, but didn't awaken. The teen stretched, his muscles aching from being cramped up so much in the cold.

_Are you alright? Seriously, how bad are you?_

_I'm not great, but I'm not too bad off. Head hurts a bit, ribs are worse…can you find me?_

_Do you have a hint?_

_I was going down Marks Street when I had my impromptu run in with the slavers…now I'm somewhere underground I think. Freezing too…not feeling to good at the moment, probably getting sick. Stone's granite I think, not to sure, it's a bit dark in here. My only window is the barred thing on the door, and it's not shedding that much light in here._

_That doesn't help to much._

_Not really. _

_I can sense you though, you're nearby. Not to many stone houses though…_

_Should be easier then._

_Should be, usually isn't. The bottoms of the houses could be stone, while the tops –_

_Are wood. I get it. Something else…my cell mate said something about his father being here. If that's the case then it's big. Also, can you manage to get…_everyone _out? Not just me?_

_Are you kidding?_

_Never with you._ There was a silence and the ridiculousness of that comment wasn't stated. Both knew that though Murtagh never smiled and always seemed very melancholy, when it came to the two of them he was fairly light tempered – and he had a knack for dry humor that many just did not understand.

_I will try. I think I'm getting closer. Should I alert the King?_ Murtagh groaned inwardly at the thought of the king seeing him in this particular state. While any state would grant the king permission to degrade him and tell him that he was not dressed appropriately, didn't look suitable, and did not have the right demeanor, he had the distinct feeling that should said King see him in this particular state there would be no end to the continuous comments on how much of a failure he was.

_Thorn, you truly know what's best for me. You decide. _

_What would you like me to do, rip the roof off?_

_That would be nice…_

_Throw it to the side? Crush the passerby's_

_I never said I liked them…_

_I'll see you soon._

_Bye. _

At that particular moment the door opened, and Murtagh looked up at the faces of his captors. There were two of them, both tall with broad shoulders. They held large thin clubs tightly in their hands and advanced into the room, door being left slightly open behind them. They shared ashen faces with dark looks in their eyes.

Murtagh went back to Adron, his hand moving towards his shoulder to wake him. The older man groaned, opening his eyes. Looking at the two slavers he groaned again.

"Stew Head, couldn't you have woken me to a better sight then ignoramus?" The teen forced himself not to make a comment about the ridiculous nickname, and shook his head at the statement.

The club that the one on the right had was raised and it fell hard on Adron's arm, breaking it instantly. The man let out a yell in pain, falling to the left at the strike. Murtagh felt his blood run cold as he fought the urge to not fight.

"Slaves do not speak unless spoken to." The attacker snapped making a move to strike him again. Unable to resist the need to help Adron, Murtagh moved in front of him defiantly. The other shook his head with a sigh.

"What do you think you're going to do kid? You can't fight remember?" Murtagh didn't answer as he clenched his fists. The man in front of him glared at him – raising his club and preparing to crash it down on the teen's shoulder.

_Thorn, _now _would be the opportune moment to stage a rescue!_

_Hang on!_

The pain was indescribable as Murtagh collapsed beneath the blow. Somewhere far away he could hear the roaring of his dear friend, and forced himself to stay awake long enough to be found. Out of the corner of his eye, the teen noticed the club being raised once more. Hissing he turned to face the blow when the man was tackled. Eyes widening in disbelief, Murtagh stared in shock as Adron punched the slaver hard in the jaw twice, before striking him to unconscious. His broken arm was just sagging uselessly as he pushed himself to his feet and turned to face the second clubber.

"Murtagh, the door!" He yelled as he plowed into the other slaver who was in a state of disbelief as well.

"What?" The teen asked, shaking from his state.

"Open that door!" Instantly he snapped into action, throwing the door open and wincing as bright light met his eyes. It didn't take long, and soon Adron was right beside him as they pulled the cell door shut behind them – locking the slavers inside. "What were you thinking?! Are you mad?! Have you finally lost it?" Adron asked whirling on Murtagh. The teen unconsciously stepped back, pressing himself against the wall. "You can't fight remember?! So why act all brave and high and mighty and look like you know what you're doing, when you're as useless as fish on land?"

"I'm sorry…"

"You know what…fine. Thank you for trying to help, but honestly kid, your might have been the best fighter in the world before now…but with that promise over your head, it's not gonna matter one bit."

"I know…but-"

_I found you, duck your head, roof's coming off! _

"Duck." Murtagh yelped looking up.

"Duck?" the other man asked giving him a look.

"_Duck_!" His hands went to Adron's hair, pushing his head down as the roof began to lift, sending parts of the wall parading down beside them. There was loud screaming, and doors were flying open as people tried to escape from the insanity of it all. People around them were pounding on their own locked doors screaming for help. "_Thorn, tone it down some!_" Murtagh screamed up, knowing the dragon would pick up on the comment. However the roof was soon completely removed, and gone from sight. In it's place was a rather upset looking dragon who had locked eyes with his Rider and was bending his head to get closer.

Adron was staring at the dragon with bulging eyes. Murtagh extended a hand and toughed Thorn's muzzle as he nudged the teen with it. Around them people were screaming, but it all seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

_You look terrible. _Thorn said

_So do you._ Murtagh said in good humor. _Wait for me? I need to help my friend find his father, then may you carry us home? _

_I will always wait for you my friend…_

Windstar: I apologize for the delay!


	8. Awra

As Murtagh and Adron searched though the wreckage for Almiar, Thorn watched idly from above. His eyes were pinned on Murtagh, never letting the boy leave his sight. It seemed like years had passed in the time it had taken him to finally make contact with the boy. With the concussion, he had only met clouds, nothing that would truly help him find his rider.

The past few months had been hard on both of them, and Murtagh's failing health hadn't helped the situation anymore. They had kept it a secret from Galbatorix, knowing that should the King ever find out, there would be hell to pay. Still, when the boy would suddenly pass out in the middle of flight training, there were few explanations that could be given to satisfy the madman.

Beatings would be given, and though Thorn would growl and fight to stop the insanity, Shruiken would stop him every time. Still, it was a sad stopping, one that was halfhearted and filled with mixed emotions. The elderly dragon had grown a fond liking for the fearless boy with eyes of ice. However, the dragons stayed out of it, and though they constantly wished to help him…they never did.

At nights Murtagh would lay on the roof of his apartments, eyes half closed, arms spread out beside him. Thorn would sit above him and would watch over the boy. His wounds would be healed, but physical pain was nothing to them both. It was meaningless when it only lasted for five minutes. It invoked fear on occasion, but not enough to break the broken spirit of Morzan's son further.

Murtagh had always looked on the bright side of his illness, but Thorn had always had the growing doubt that the boy would one day sleep and never wake up. However, for now he had no fear of that happening. The teen hardly ever slept anyway, taking to only sleeping once every week or two- only for three hours at a time. In that sense, Thorn had always accepted gladly even when the boy was unconscious, for his body could regain the energy that had always been worn out.

Adron looked over at the young man beside him, his eyes calculating, and trying to understand him. He tripped over some rubble, and gasped as he tried to catch himself with his broken arm. Murtagh looked over, meeting his eyes, and the two stopped walking. He took a deep breath and moved towards the man – placing a palm on his injured arm. Adron gave him a quizzical work, but it was ignored as he whispered a spell and the bone realigned and was healed instantly. He had healed his own shoulder when Adron was busy gaping at Thorn, and had been completely ignorant of his companion's pain until he had gasped.

"Why are you doing this?" Adron asked rubbing the limb gently. "Why don't you just leave?"

"Because you protected me when I needed help, I figure it's the least I could do, to help you in return." Murtagh replied, smiling as though it were obvious.

"You're too honorable to work for the King." Murtagh smiled for a brief moment, before moving onward. Adron kept pace with him, and continued. "My father used to work for yours, did you know that?" Murtagh spared him a glance. "You'd have to ask him about it…but when I was young, he was gone for weeks on end only getting two days off a month." Murtagh opened his mouth, but was soon cut off. "When you asked me why I wasn't afraid of you, it's because my father said that Morzan was one of the most courageous, honorable, and powerful men he had ever met." Deep inside him, Murtagh felt his heart swell with pride. He was not the only one who had remembered a kind man, and not a tyrant. "I never met Morzan, but you should ask my father about it sometime."

"Thank you…I will…"

They walked on in silence, Murtagh thinking about what kind of man Almiar was and what he would say about Morzan. However, his musings were only intensified and a shout of pure joy was heard from ahead of them.

"Adron!" The man in question took off running, Murtagh following close behind. The older man flung himself into an elder man of his fifties' arms.

"Papa, how are you? Are you well? You seem to be in good health." Adron said holding the man at arms length.

"I am fine my boy, did you see the Dragon? He's been sitting above this abomination of a house for the longest time! Is he not everything I told you they were like?!" Murtagh watched on in a deep sadness. He wondered faintly if his father would call to him like this…if his father would hold him at arms length and talk to him about the wonders of the world. In the past he would have demanded that the answer was no, and that Morzan was purely evil. However now, now that his memories had finally and fully returned to him, he was no longer sure if that was true or not.

"I not only saw it, but you shall never guess whom else I've seen." The man laughed at the bait, and lightly took it.

"And whom might that be boy?"

"It's Rider!" The smile faded somewhat, and as Adron beckoned for Murtagh to come forward, it had completely vanished and was replaced with a look of quiet calculation. Murtagh stood under the man's strong gaze for a while, none speaking. The gaze seemed to send many thoughts into the boy's mind; thoughts on worth and acceptance…but most importantly remembrance. It was vague, but there was a distinct feeling of familiarity under those dark eyes. "Father, may I re-introduce you to -"

"Murtagh my lord, Son of Morzan." The younger interrupted, bowing his head in respect. After the gesture, he looked up, only to find the man to have gone very pale. His eyes were bulging and his hands were shaking.

The man lifted a hand and placed his palm on the boy's face, holding him there for a long moment. Beside them, Adron's eyes were moving from his father to Murtagh, looking confused.

"Father? Are you alright?"

"You look just like your mother." The comment flew Murtagh back into his memories once more, trying to recall exactly _what _Selena looked like. Truth be-told, he had always thought that his parents were very similar in appearance. They had the same hair, were roughly the same height, and they shared similar facial structures. Hers more feminine and pronounced then his though, and her eyes were much darker then Morzan's (a trait that Eragon had adopted).

"Sir?" He whispered softly.

"Except your eyes. You have your father's eyes true enough. You grew up well boy." Almiar said, ignoring the young man's comment. "I half expected you to be dead to be honest. After all the talk about your escape from the castle, I half expected you to be killed if you were ever brought back."

"How did you know that I ran away?" Murtagh asked, eyes furrowing in confusion. The hand was removed from his face, but that did not stop him from feeling the sense of familiarity…

"After serving your father as head guard for three years, I went on to serve the King as a guard in the citadel. We were told of your probable attempt to escape, and were warned to stop you at all costs. We failed…" Murtagh noted the diplomatic way of his speech. The man did not mention that he left his father's service because of the death of his liege lord, nor did he mention Tornac's death.

"Come…I must return to the palace, but I would greatly wish to keep talking with you. If you'd allow it, Thorn will carry the three of us back…or take you wherever you need to go." Murtagh murmured, silently calling for Thorn to come closer. The dragon complied, and with a flurry of awe and compliments they boarded the dragon, the non-riders listening to Murtagh's tips on where to situate their legs and body weight.

The ride to the King's court was a short and yet terribly long one. Murtagh was hardly listening to his new friend and Almiar. His mind, as usual, was thinking of his father and the king. He knew that he would be punished most severely for what he had done, especially when he hadn't tried to contact the King.

He sighed as the citadel came closer into view, and he felt Thorn press into his mind. It was always a welcome feeling, when his dragon wished to speak to him. It was nothing like Galbatorix's forceful breaking of his thoughts. Thorn knew, and accepted that the boy didn't like it when his mind was forced into, he never tried. He only spoke to him calmly, allowing him to be comfortable with his presence there. It was something that Murtagh had always appreciated, and never commented on.

_Are you alright? _The Dragon whispered, and he noticed the beast's head turn to face him.

_I'm always alright. _He replied softly, the distraction was what he needed right now. He was to close to falling back into his memories, to close to closing himself off once more.

_Murtagh…you've been very distant this whole ride. Usually you –_The dragon cut off as a searing pain shot through the boy's head. His hand grabbed it, body going into convulsions as he slipped from his friend's back – plummeting down to the ground below. Adron screamed, trying to grab him as he fell. He missed.

Murtagh's mind was breaking as shouts of anger thrashed him completely. He was insensible to the goings around him, insensible to everything for that matter. Only the sounds of the king berating him and screaming at him – telling him all of the punishments he would receive when he returned.

Thorn fell into a dive, and his two other riders yelped, trying to stay on. They managed the feet just as the dragon's hands grabbed the boy and pulled up. Thorn was looking at his Rider in complete fear as Murtagh tossed and turned on his claws. The teen's hands were gripping his head and he was moaning in pain.

The Dragon growled in rage and sent his own barricades into the boy's mind. Galbatorix had made his Rider oath something more then just physical fighting. When it came to actions of the mind, his mind was completely open. He couldn't protect himself against the angry force that was smashing its way into his head, but Thorn could.

He watched as his Rider fell still, oblivious to the fact that Adron and Almiar were watching Murtagh as well. He could hear the King threatening him to release the boy, but Thorn refused. He glanced behind him, wondering how far he'd make it if he spirited them away.

However he knew that under the oath of his true name, Murtagh was forced to never leave. He was just as much a warrior for the King as he was a captive. Thorn sighed and flapped his wings closer to the Citadel. He wondered faintly if the King would let the teen be, as he was already injured. He doubted it.

Murtagh was dreaming again, dreaming of the last time he saw his father…the last night he was in that beloved Tower. As a boy, he had never minded the Tower; he had wanted to stay there forever. Now as an adult, he wished he were back there. He wished he were anywhere except for this place. He wanted to curl up in that Tower's library and read a book, wanted to ride his horse across the plains, eat foods that he enjoyed, and show Thorn the place where his father's dragon had lived. He knew he would never go back there, he didn't know where it was, but he dreamed of it further…and the thoughts pained him worse.

_It was dark out, and Murtagh was snuggled under his blankets. Rain had started falling a long time ago, and the boy had fallen asleep on his window seat to listen to it. He never minded the rain, he thought it sounded beautiful. It only came every once and a while though, as there wasn't much water around this area. He sighed in contentment in his sleep, and the rain lulled him into a deeper sense of comfort. _

_Morzan was not that lucky. His arm was bleeding terribly, and he was trying to ignore the pain. His dragon was flying as fast as it could to the Tower, and he was trying to staunch the wound. Below him was a lone rider with a purpose of striking him dead. He hadn't seen the man in so many years, but clearly he had underestimated him. The horse he was riding had been blessed by the Elves; it's feet smashing into the ground at a remarkable pace. He was keeping up with him, even as his beloved Dragon tried to fly faster. _

_Morzan saw the Tower coming, and glanced down at the man in a panic. He wouldn't be able to see the Tower would he? He'd simply ride through it, still looking for him, right? That was what the spell was. None who did not know the Tower could see it. Morzan looked up, eyes finding his son's room. He felt his heart stop as he saw the boy asleep by his window. _

"_Oh…my boy…" He whispered as he saw the innocence clearly plastered on his child's sweet face. He dug his legs into his dragon and hissed for him to go faster, and the winged beast replied instantly. _

_The Dragon landed by the huge open entrance window to the Tower – specifically made for the creature. It ducked its' head and stepped inside, sitting down on the marble floor – allowing his Rider to get off. Morzan ran to the door, adamant on finding his son and guarding him until the end of his days. _

_However the horseman below _did _know of the Tower. He _did _know how to enter it, and the rider kicked down the front door and rushed inside. The horseman ran up the stairs and up to where the Forsworn was, and just as the man threw open his door to find his son – the rider slashed out with his sword. _

_Morzan screamed in pain, his dragon howled with rage and plunged forward to attack the horseman. However an invisible wall shot up between them. The Dragon snapped and howled with rage, attempting to protect his Rider. Morzan looked up at the man before him, blood seeping from his chest. _

"_Brom…please…" He started, as the man advanced. _

"_No pleading for your life this time, _Forsworn._" The enraged former Rider hissed. Morzan struggled to his feet, his hands grasping Zar'roc in an attempt to defend himself. _

"_Not here Brom, please, just not here!" He begged, eyes glancing at the empty spot in the door where he could imagine innocent little eyes staring back at him. Murtagh could run down those stairs at any moment and see his father's imminent death. _

"_No. Here. Here and now." The man hissed as he raised his sword to strike once more. Morzan parried the blow and took a step back, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced once more at the door, and Brom took that moment and stabbed him hard in his shoulder. The Rider hissed with pain, and fell to the ground with a howl. His Dragon was screaming now, and the man was clutching his newest wound in pain. _

"_My-son…" He whispered to Brom. The man's eyes widened slightly at the two words. "Don't-don't kill him…just…" he could feel his life draining out of him…his senses started to fail him, and he longed to see the boy just one last time. Their last encounter had been when the child had thought he hated him, surely that could not be his boy's final memory of his father… "Mith-hwesta o nar come…" He whispered. _

_Two stories above, the boy was already awake. He had heard the dragon screaming, and had already started to run to the Dragon's Lair to see his father. When the words he hadn't heard smashed into him, he felt his body jolt before rushing forward. He tripped only once, before his tiny body materialized in the doorway. He heard his name being whispered by his father as he appeared, and he thought that all would be well. _

"_Murtagh…"_

_He froze as the sight before him dawned on him. His father's eyes were looking at him with complete and utter pain. He felt his body shake as he watched the man's eyes close and he died. His dragon let out an ear piercing screech before joining him in the afterlife. The murderer stood there in a fright too, the consequences of his actions dawning on him at last. _

"_Daddy!" He shouted, rushing forward to wake his father. Brom caught him by his waist; and Murtagh fought like a wild cat to get out of the hold. "Daddy! Daddy! Wake up! Daddy!" He shouted again and again, reaching for the Rider in fear. Tears were falling down his eyes as he tried to get to him. Brom simply stood there holding him, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn't just leave the boy could he?_

_Murtagh kicked him hard in the shin as he contemplated, and he dropped the child in surprise. The little boy rushed to his father's side, tears pouring from his eyes like rivers. Never had his father not answered when he called for him, why was he starting now? The boy held the man's head in his hands, and shook it trying to get him to wake up. _

"_Daddy? Daddy?!" He called over and over and Brom felt his heart breaking. He had robbed this child of his father, just as he had killed the last Dragon in _Alagaësia_ besides the King's. He bent down and picked the boy up, making his decision to take the boy somewhere he'd be safe. Murtagh was insensible with grief, and after pounding his tiny fists onto the man's chest, his arms wrapped around his neck and he wept bitterly into his shoulder. _

Murtagh's eyes snapped open as a harsh smack sounded across his face. He was lying in Thorn's reptilian hands and before him was the King. The man had taken a fistful of the boy's shirt and pulled him upward, then he struck the teen until he opened his eyes. The king was not pleased. Not pleased at all. He was glaring at the boy with anger. Even though Thorn was growling at him, he pulled the boy up and threw him to the side.

Adron hissed as he saw the King manhandle the boy. Murtagh's unsteady legs didn't allow him to stand, and he fell to the floor in a heap. The son of the guard stepped past the king, despite his father's warning, and moved to help the boy to his feet. Murtagh looked up at him with such a haunted look, that Adron wondered if the boy was safer in the hands of the slavers.

"Are you alright my lord?" He asked softly. The boy's eyes widened somewhat, but nodded anyway.

"Who in the names of gods are you?" The king hissed as he attempted to wrench the boy from Adron's hold. However the older boy simply moved Murtagh aside before the King could take hold of his wrist. Then he turned to face the king, eyes defiant.

"My name is Adron, son of one of your guards, Almiar." The young man said, drawing himself up. "Sir, whatever faults the young lord has committed, he is clearly injured and any form of further…impairment could cause him to be severely ill. That is not what the lord King wishes, is it?" He gave the boy in his grip a gentle squeeze on the arm as he spoke.

The king looked at the young man and then back at Morzan's son, and he relented. He'd wait a small while before continuing this 'discussion.' And for the Adron's insolence – he would watch. The king formulated the plan in his head as he replied with a sick smile.

"Take him back to his rooms. I will deal with this later." With that the king turned and left; and Murtagh stared at his friend in awe.

"Thank you Lord Adron…" He whispered, voice steady, though tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

"Ah, I am not a lord, but I am willing to be your friend should you wish it of me." Adron had grown a liking to this man-child. Thorn lowered his nose and pressed it to his Rider's face in a comforting gesture.

"I would wish it so…" Murtagh said calmly, tears seemingly vanishing as he felt his Dragon's love for him radiate though his skin. Since his capture, he had refused to cry in front of people. Barring torture, he was rather adept at doing so. "Though I imagine the King would not allow such a thing to occur." Adron laughed.

"Then he won't allow it, I will simply ignore him." Murtagh looked up at him oddly, but nodded his head slowly. "Come; let me bring you to your apartments."

The walk was slow, and Murtagh was still slightly unsteady on his feet, but they managed just fine. The young heir told him what turns he had to make and when. They walked in companionable silence and they were just fine with that. Thorn had gone to drop Almiar off at his own house before returning to his shared room with Shruikan.

They entered Murtagh's room and Adron helped him sit on the bed before stepping back and looking around at it. Murtagh's head dipped into his hands as he tried to sooth his growing headache. Galbatorix had used to much power on an open mind, the effects had been disastrous.

"Nice room." Almiar's son said as he looked at the blank shelves, the empty fire, the tidy desk, and the dark walls.

"I don't decorate." Murtagh muttered at the sarcasm.

"Lay down, my lord. Get some rest, I will find my way home." Adron said as he moved to step out of the room.

"Thank you." The younger boy said as he watched his friend nod and exit behind the doors. He fell back onto the pillows, his head throbbing in pain. Then he curled into a ball and fell into another fitful sleep.


	9. Im lhaew

**Chapter Nine:**

Galbatorix had given the boy a week before he exacted his anger on him. Though he had extracted the oath to fight once more from Murtagh, in that week his fury grew more and more. Murtagh's new friend and he were hardly seen without the other. Adron came each day to help the boy with his swordsmanship and they sparred regularly. In turn, Morzan's brooding, angst filled, nonchalant son sat on Thorn performing tricks and dives for his friend's growing pleasure. Occasionally Adron was permitted to ride with Murtagh, and that alone had annoyed Galbatorix to no end.

On the one hand, he was happy that the boy was finally relaxing some in the citadel. However on the other hand, the two continually put things off and rarely did what they were asked to do. A form of negligence that the king had never seen with the boy.

So when he called for both the young men to attend him one evening, he was quite prepared to thrash the younger quite thoroughly. It would be punishment enough for Adron to have to know that he caused the man-child's pain.

They arrived just on time, as they never kept the King waiting when requested. They bowed in tandem, and fell into the military standard "at ease" position. Hands overlapping each other in the back, legs shoulder distance apart, eyes straight. Galbatorix looked at them sternly.

"I have two things in wish I want to…_discuss _with you both." He started as he searched for their reactions. "Specifically you Murtagh." He looked into the young man's (for that was quickly what eh was becoming) eyes and noticed a brief flicker in those orbs. "You are aware you come from…royal…descent." He waited for the boy to respond.

"Yes sir…" He said slowly, wondering where this was going. He had been told early in his life that he was of a royal line of the Brodding Kingdom.

"As you both know…I am without woman or child." They tactfully remained silent. The King had many bastards running around, but none were 'pure' enough to be his son legitimized (which simply meant that none were able to make the eggs hatch.) "In this upcoming war, I've decided that should I die I need an heir…and because I have no need for a bloodline I have chosen one. Murtagh, from this day forth you will be Prince of this nation." The younger of the two before him blanched. His mouth fell open and he could hear Thorn asking him if the King was irate or simply mad.

Galbatorix knew that Murtagh hated him, hated this empire, hated everything about the ruling he had forth. The more he thought about it, the more he didn't understand. He hated the empire yes, but he believed in the government. If he was the _king _then everything would be changed. So why the devil was _he _named heir? Why not one of the little bastards down in the city? Then it hit him.

Because he was a Rider. That's why. Galbatorix wanted him to be his heir, because the world would listen to a Rider. He was expected to rule with fear…because if none listened, there would be hell to pay.

"On to the second bit of business then." The king had continued talking even while he stood there awestruck. "Adron…if you would…" Galbatorix snapped his eyes on the 21 year old, and the young man flew across the room – back smashing against the wall with a yelp. Murtagh whirled around, face pale and looking stunned.

"What are you doing?!" He yelled moving to help his friend who was stuck on the wall despite his protesting. Galbatorix said nothing. As the Prince's back turned to him he removed his hand from his cloak, revealing the long whip that the teen was well acquainted with. He raised it and snapped it just as Adron's eyes saw it. Murtagh yelped and collapsed under the blow. He hadn't expected the strike, and the force was more then he had bargained for.

Adron's eyes were wide with fear, and he strained against invisible binds to help his younger companion. Murtagh's tunic had ripped under the strike, and though it had protected him somewhat from the blow, his back had started to bleed afresh. He struggled to his feet and then turned to face the King.

"I'm going to strike your friend there." The sovereign said with such ease that Adron shivered in his frozen state. "I'm going to administer twenty lashes for not only _your_ disappearance, but for the fact that you've been sorely lacking in your duties. I'm going to whip him because he's keeping you from your duties. And if you're going to keep _your friend _from getting hurt then I suggest you stop giving me that look and start protecting him." He raised the whip without another word, and angled it down to strike Adron across the chest. It never hit the young man.

Murtagh and selflessly dived in between the King and the guard's son. His hands slapped the wall on either side of the other's head, and he hissed as the whip sliced into his back. He was no stranger to this pain. He knew this pain well. However never had he voluntarily accepted it, never had he let it occur willingly.

Adron watched in horror as strike after strike the whip fell. His friend refused to meet his eyes, they were clenched tight and he merely gasped in pain. Blood was falling to the floor, and Adron couldn't help but feel responsible. Murtagh was doing this to keep _him _from pain. He knew why the King was doing this. He knew that Galbatorix wanted to hurt both of them for what had been occurring these past few weeks…he knew that…and it _did _hurt. It hurt like hell.

The last strike fell and the teen collapsed into him, gasping in pain. Adron felt his body be released, and he instantly caught the boy as he started to fall. Murtagh's hands clutched his tunic to hold himself up; as his legs were unsteady. Adron looked up from the boy's bloody and mutilated back to the King who met his eyes.

"Have a good evening Prince…and you as well Adron." Seething with rage the young man actually growled as he held the teen in his arms. He sank to his knees slowly, allowing the teen to be able to lie down for a time.

"You didn't have to do that my Lord." Murtagh breathed in sharply as Adron spoke. He was forcing back tears though the pain was insurmountable. He felt his vision fading, his headache growing. He whispered something as he felt the tips of his fingers start to shake. "What was that?"

"Thorn." The croaking voice replied, straining over the bouts of dizziness that he was attacked with. "Please…need…Thorn." Adron didn't reply, he simply got a stronger hold on the boy in his arms and slowly started to stand.

_Thorn…help…_ Murtagh thought, as his hands shook painfully.

_Murtagh! Murtagh! Are you alright! _The panicked voice replied. The Dragon had been shut off for a time, unable to feel his Rider. Then all at once the teen was there, and all his pain with it. _  
_

_Sick…sick…help… _The dragon slashed out with his tail, striking the door to the Throne Room open. Adron has already made it half way there by the time the red dragon had forced his way into the room. The dragon sent Adron a message to place the boy on his wing on his side, and as it was set down, Adron did so.

The guard's son stepped back in fright as the teen's body broke into uncontrollable shaking. Never in his life had he seen this happen, and he paled considerably. Thorn nuzzled his nose close to the dreadfully sick teen, and breathed softly to calm the boy down the best he could. The episode lasted only three minutes but in teen stayed still, eyes unfocused for some time afterwards.

"Murtagh?" Adron asked, sinking to his knees and reaching out to touch the teen's face. Thorn growled, and Adron looked up at him. "What's wrong with him?"

_Nothing. _The dragon snapped angrily. _He's fine!_

"That is not fine!" The young man shouted. "There has to be something to stop that from happening again!"

"There isn't." the Prince whispered softly. He hadn't tried moving, that would take some time, but he closed his eyes and was breathing deeply.

"How do you know?!" Adron shouted. "Someone, somewhere, somehow knows what this is! They could give you something, an herb maybe? To ease the…whatever it is that happens!"

"It's a fit." Murtagh whispered. "It has something to do with my head…" He nuzzled his head against the soft webbing of his dragon's wing. "I've had them since I was a kid…they're just more frequent now."

"What are you talking about?" He asked as he knelt beside his broken friend.

"When I was very young I had them a lot." Murtagh sighed and attempted to sit up, Thorn Growled when he saw the extent of the boy's intense wounds. "My Dad used to hold me pat my hair, stuff like that while it happened. They god less and less frequent as I got older, by the time I started living here they happened maybe every six months or so…I looked into what people know about it." Adron placed his hands on the boy's shoulders to help steady him. "It's not very common. There's really no cure. I'm told to roll on my side in case I throw up or something…"

"This isn't right…he shouldn't hit you if you react like this…" Adron said still in shock.

"Adron. I didn't have a fit because I was beaten." The teen snapped back, trying to focus his eyes. "They happen that's all…" he didn't add that they've been happening more and more and that he was prone to blacking out soon there afterwards. He didn't add that it was a miracle that he was even alive at this point. He didn't add that these 'fits' were the least of his troubles. He didn't add that he had only few months, maybe if he was lucky, years to live. He didn't add all of that, because he knew that this man would go to the ends of the globe to find some way of saving him, only to be sorely disappointed in the end. "There's nothing you can do about it, so just calm down okay?" He asked giving his friend a hopeful look. Adron sighed deeply.

"Fine. Now can you do that thing you do with your back?" Murtagh looked at him quizzically.

"Thing I do with my back?"

"Can you heal your wounds?"

"Oh…yes…"

And so time went. Never again did Adron allow Murtagh to be late to his duties, Galbatorix had engrained that into the guard's head. After that day the older man looked after Murtagh with a very watchful eye. Any sign of a headache or something to that effect had the 21 year old asking him to take a break. or to sit down for a time, or to drink something. In all honesty the teen appreciated the gesture, but sometimes the actions caused him to snap at his friend.

The two soon became a well oiled team. Galbatorix placed Murtagh in his army and Adron as Murtagh's second. The two led kindly, and established a firm order of things. They were always seen together, and took very good care of their troops.

It was on the eve of Murtagh's 20th birthday when Galbatorix once more called the two to the Throne room. He studied both soldiers carefully, and nodded to them to fall into the "at ease" position.

"Your brother has returned from hiding it seems Murtagh." Adron glanced at Murtagh in surprise. He hadn't known that the boy had a brother. Deep down it felt like a stab of betrayal. Murtagh looked annoyed though, and the Adjutant tactfully stayed silent – for now.

"My brother…sir?" The young man asked politely, a ghost of a smile played on Galbatorix' lips.

"Eragon."

"Ah, _that _brother you mean." Murtagh replied. The King's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, _that _brother." He snapped back angrily. "He is en route to the West of the Jiet River, or…_the Burning Plains._" He stated.

"And what would you like me to do about that…sir?" The prince asked sincerely.

"I want you to bring him to me." There was a flicker of something in the boy's eyes, but he did well to conceal it.

"You want me to bring…Eragon…to you, sir?" He asked silently.

"Adron, leave us for a moment." Galbatorix hissed, and the Adjutant bowed and left. As the door closed the King bore into those brown orbs with all the intensity he could muster. "Mith hwesta o nar, you _will_ do as I say. You will try to bring this boy in do you understand me?!" Murtagh nodded and shot out a 'yes sir.' "Go. You leave in the morning."

The teen bowed and left, stepping out of the room. Adron was waiting for him as he appeared in the hallway. His eyes were full of hurt and pain. Murtagh sighed and reached back to tie his bangs from his face. He began walking down the hallway and Adron followed him.

"Eragon's three years younger then me. He was born just after my father died. My mother left before that and didn't come back about a month after that. She died in the first week she was home. I didn't meet Eragon until last year. I found out we were brothers on the first day I was brought back."

"You have one confusing family my Lord." Adron said shaking his head. "What is this brother of yours like? Dark and brooding like you I presume?" Murtagh made a face.

"Dark and brooding? Unfortunately no." He took a deep breath. "That would make him almost tolerable from time to time. However he has this insane notion that he's a hero and goes off on random voyages to 'save the world.' And then when his ingenious plans fail, he expects me to save him! He's whiny and bratty, and I cant imagine why Saphira wanted _him _as her Rider. I suppose he's decent with a blade, but if he was truly incredible he wouldn't get into half as many troubles as he has now! Not only that but he's far too quick to judge people and advised a lady friend that I had that -" Murtagh stopped short. He had purposely tried to ignore Nasuada during his captivity. He could almost see her now that he thought of her. Her hair, her eyes, her skin…he closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them, she was gone. "He's a fool." He whispered, thoughts straying to the woman whom he much admired.

"So…" Adron said as the other finished. "I take it you two got along just fine?" Murtagh looked up and smiled.

"Of course we did. We were friends after all, that is until I was captured." Murtagh said with a ghost of a smile.

**Windstar: **I had put together a rather informative author's note to end this chapter. However When I transferred this to the "Complete Inheritance Project" file I'd created – I neglected to transfer the note as well. This isn't exactly what I had put down before, but it's pretty close. I hope you find it useful.

Generalized Tonic Clonic: AKA: Grand Mal:

What it looks like. Sudden cry, fall, rigidity, followed by muscle jerks, shallow breathing or temporarily suspended breathing, bluish skin, possible loss of bladder or bowel control, usually last a couple of minutes. Normal breathing then starts again. There may be some confusion and/or fatigue, followed by return to full consciousness.

What to do. 

Look for medical identification.  
Protect from nearby hazards.  
Loosen ties or shirt collars.  
Turn on side to keep airway clear unless injury exists. Reassure as consciousness returns.  
If single seizure lasted less than 5 minutes, ask if hospital evaluation wanted.  
If multiple seizures, or if one seizure last longer than 5 minutes, call an ambulance.  
If person is pregnant, injured, or diabetic, call for aid at once.  
DO NOT put any hard implement in the mouth, don't try to hold tongue, don't give liquids during or after seizure, and don't restrain.

Absence: AKA: Petit Mal:

What it looks like.

A blank stare, beginning and ending abruptly, lasting only a few seconds, most common in children. May be accompanied by rapid blinking, some chewing movements of the mouth. Child or adult is unaware of what's going on during the seizure, but quickly returns to full awareness once it has stopped. May result in learning difficulties if not recognized and treated.

What to do.

No first aid necessary, but if this is the first observation of the seizure(s), medical evaluation should be recommended.

Simple Partial: Sometime's called Jacksonian Seizures:

What it looks like. 

Jerking may being in one area of the body, arm, leg or face. Can't be stopped, but patient stays awake and aware. Jerking may proceed from one area of the body to another, and sometimes spreads to become a convulsive seizure.  
Partial sensory seizures may not be obvious to an onlooker. Patient experiences a distorted environment. May see or hear things that aren't there, may feel unexplained fear, sadness, anger, or joy. May have nausea, experience odd smells, and have a generally "funny" feeling in the stomach.

What to do. 

No first aid is necessary unless the seizure becomes convulsive, then first aid as indicated.  
No immediate action needed other than reassurance and emotional support if the patient starts to express fear, sadness, anger or joy.  
If the patient experiences odd smells and has a generally "funny" feeling in their stomach, medical evaluation should be recommended.

If someone you know suddenly has a first time seizure before you, and you are unaware as to what to do – call a doctor immediately.

Should he or she loose consciousness, stop breathing, and or's heart stops beating – locate the nearest trained person whom can resuscitate them.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	10. Aur Onnad Meren!

**Chapter Ten:**

Adron had been asked to stay behind as Murtagh went ahead. He didn't want his friend with him for this part of his journey. On the way to the Plains they came upon a graveyard, and the young Rider needed to do something inside it. He had to do this alone.

Murtagh knelt before the headstone, his head tucked to his chest. Thorn sat beside him in silence. The dragon knew that it was moments like this, that the most comfort he could offer his young Rider was simply to be there in spirit. Neither spoke as the young man's hand played with the grass in front of him.

_I never understood until you were dead_

_How much you meant to me_

_Lies and vague memories filled my head_

_Lies that blocked you from me constantly_

Twenty years...it had been twenty years since he had first come into this world. No longer was he the child people constantly thought he was. No longer could people refer to him as a babe among men. However this day wasn't a happy one. Now that he thought back on it, he hadn't smiled once while in Uru'baen. He had laughed with Adron while he was imprisoned, but when he was in the service of the King once more he fell into silence.

_I remember holding your hand now, _

_As I took my first steps._

_You never let me tumble down_

_Until by myself I happily crept_

Thorn tilted his head towards the young Rider and sighed softly as Murtagh stood. "Let's go Thorn...time to go." He whispered turning and beginning the long walk back to his troops. As they left the grave behind, Thorn looked back only once. Murtagh had restricted himself to never turning back.

_All I want to know is why it hurt so much_

_When I learned that you did care for me_

_Was it because I had already lost your touch?_

_You were gone, and there was no more for me to see…_

Murtagh took a deep breath and asked for Thorn to let him ride him. The Dragon complied, and the two flew down and out of the graveyard. They made a pass over the tremendous amount of warriors down below them, and Murtagh sighed.

_You always loved me_

_Most of my life I ignored that love_

_You always believed_

_Yet here I am pushed aside and shoved_

He landed ahead of the group and sat down on the boulders where they would make their encampment, and lay back. Thorn stretched out and rested his nose on his legs. He sighed in contentment and listened to the sound of the far off marching. It would take at least three hours before the troops made it to where he was. Three blessed hours to just sleep.

_Brom had placed the boy on his horse, his right arm holding him steady as he used his other hand to hold the reins. The boy was in a complete panic, he kept trying to get off the horse and return to the tower. Brom hissed as the child smashed his head against his chin. _

_Not seeing another option, he pulled the horse to a stop. The boy was looking around him in affright, his wet hair slapping the former Rider in the face. He shifted the reins into his other hand, and placed his free one on the boy's face. Murtagh screamed as his hands tried to push the offender off of him. _

_Brom closed his eyes and murmured a few words ("Slytha Morzan's ion.") and almost instantly the boy was asleep in his arms. He never liked abusing his powers – especially not on a child. However he was not foolish enough to think that Galbatorix would simply allow him to escape after killing Morzan. _

_He needed to leave, and leave soon. He adjusted the boy and set his horse off into a gallop once more. He had a small group of men placed about two miles off, that was his destination. The rain poured heavily on them, and Brom hissed as the boy threatened to fall off the horse. He pulled the child close, although he was fully aware that the boy was slipping from his grasp. _

_The ride was fairly silent and he was happy about that. The light of his friends' encampment was glowing not that far off now. He pushed his horse just a bit farther and then he breathed in deeply when he arrived. _

_He pushed Murtagh down, so his neck was resting against the animal's throat. Then he dismounted as the boy was balanced. He wrapped his arms around Morzan's son's chest and then lifted him down. He looked into the pavilion that was struck, and noticed that he was being watched._

_Sighing he carried the boy inside the pavilion and looked at the tall man that stood by the flaps of the tent. He nodded to him, and received one in turn. _

"_I wasn't aware we were bringing home captives." The man said as he observed the unconscious boy. _

"_I wasn't aware that Morzan had a son." Brom hissed back as he moved towards the fire. The unknown walked towards the former Rider and looked down at the child with narrowed eyes. "Morzan's _son_?" He asked annoyed. "We cannot bring his _son _back to the hideout." _

"_He's distraught and clearly young. He could be an asset for the future." Brom muttered as he started to remove the wet tunic from the child. He motioned for the unknown to hand him a dry garment for the boy to wear. The man did so. _

"_That's the point, isn't it? He's distraught. Meaning he's unpredictable." _

"_You should have seen him when I tried to remove him from the tower." Brom replied annoyed. He slipped Murtagh's arms out of the sleeves and threw the wet tunic to the side. "He was hyperventilating he was in so much fear." He looked up at the man beside him. "I don't think he's left that accursed tower in his entire life." He saw the man hiss in surprise, and he looked down at the boy. "What in the names of…" Brom trailed off, not knowing what to do. There was a long twisting scar on the boy's back, and it didn't take too much guessing to figure out who laid it there. _

"_What's his name?" the unknown asked as he frowned at the terrible scar. _

"_Don't know. I think its Murtagh, but Morzan said something else that I won't repeat. I have a feeling that that old bastard knew his son's _real _name."_

"_His _real_ name?" _

"_Yes, he said something and asked for the boy to come to him, and then there he was all of a sudden." The unknown glanced down at the boy and sighed. There was the sound of a scuffle outside and he stood to leave._

"_Get him dressed and warm, then wake him up." He stepped out of the flap leaving Brom alone with the boy. _

_Brom sighed and finished dressing him, before placing his hand on the boy's forehead and whispering the words that would wake him up. Murtagh's eyes snapped open; and Brom hissed as he kicked him hard. The tiny boy rolled to the side. He pushed himself to his feet and made a dash to the door – straight into the unknown man. The man snatched the child up and gave him a good shake before putting him on the ground and pushing him to sit in a chair. _

_The boy was shaking miserably and clearly was terrified. He kept looking around the room expecting to see something that wasn't there, and these men he'd never seen before kept trying to bring his attention to them._

"_Boy!" He felt a sharp slap across his face, and he fell still – looking at the man who grabbed him. "What is your name?" _

"_M-Murtagh…" He whispered, shaking in fear. His father had always told him that if he left the Tower that bad men would come and take him away. Now he had left the tower, and bad men _did _come to take him away. _

"_My name is Ajihad." He said looking at the boy closely. The child's eyes were filling with tears from the strike, and the man couldn't help but feel ashamed of doing so. He thought of his own child – just younger then this boy – and he sighed. "I am of the Varden." He had said it to see if the boy was privy to his father's warmongering. From the blank look that he received, he supposed not. It was as Brom had said…the boy was an innocent. Distraught, yes, alone, yes, but innocent none the less. _

"_Where's my daddy?" The boy asked though his tears. He was trembling in the cold, and he wrapped his arms around his body to keep him warm. "I want my daddy!" Ajihad shot a look at Brom who sighed. _

_  
"Child, do you know what death is?" The man who had stolen him away asked. The boy looked at him confused, but answered anyway._

"_It means you leave and never come back." Murtagh replied, wiping his tears onto his sleeve. _

"_Yes…your father's dead Murtagh…" Brom said quietly. The boy felt his anger rise._

"_No! He's not! He didn't leave and not come back! He's home! He's home!" The boy got to his feet, his fists clenched in anger. "You took me! My daddy's home! He's not gone! Take me home! Take me home! _Take me home!_" He threw himself at Brom, banging his fists against his chest as new tears poured from his eyes. _

_Brom grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and held him at arms length. The irate toddler screamed and kicked trying to get at him. He looked up at Ajihad, pleading for help with his eyes. The man stayed still though, calculating all that was happening. _

"_Daddy says don't say lies! You're not allowed to say lies! Take it back!" Murtagh screamed again. _

"_Murtagh! Death doesn't mean you have to _physically _leave and not come back. Your father will never wake up again Murtagh! He's _gone_! You must accept that!" At this the boy fell silent; his eyes were wide with pain and fear. He stood there staring at the man before him, biting his lower lip. _

"_But…he promised…" The boy whispered. "He promised he wouldn't die." _

"_Murtagh…"_

"Murtagh!" The Prince's eyes shot open and he snapped up, hand rubbing the sleep from his face.

"I'm awake." He said unneedingly. Adron stood in front of him looking concerned, and he glared at him. "I just feel asleep, that's all." Thorn nodded, affirming that.

"The pavilions have been struck, and it's time for the night rounds." Adron said slowly.

"Night rounds?" Murtagh asked, as he swung himself from the boulder. "How long have I been asleep for?"

"We arrived here about five hours ago."

"Seven hours?" He asked in awe. "That long?"

"Yes, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just exhausted that's all."

"Come…there's something I want to show you."

The two walked through the troops until they were in front of them all. Adron handed Murtagh a telescope from his belt, and the young Prince looked into the glass and breathed in sharply. There before them was an army.

It wasn't as powerful as theirs; that was obvious. There were fewer of them then their numbers. However…it was a force to be reckoned with. Murtagh looked up at his friend, and his friend sighed.

"Look there, to the far back right. You'll see something that you might find interesting." Murtagh did so, and then found what Adron had hours before. A dragon. To big to be a pavilion, too small to be a boulder, and to mobile to be mountain, there she was. Saphira. Which clearly meant:

"Eragon."

"What will you do?" Adron asked as Murtagh handed the telescope back to him and turned to head back to the troops.

"Hide Thorn for a while. Saphira will most likely do a round over the troops; I'll send Thorn away so she doesn't see him before the battle." He sighed and kept walking.

"That's not what I meant." Murtagh glanced back at his Adjutant and gave him a cynical look.

"I've been ordered to try to take him in haven't I? I will do what I have been commanded to." With that, and a wry smile, The Prince of the Empire made his way back to camp, commanded Thorn to go into hiding and then with a sick gleam in his eyes whispered to the night "happy birthday to me."

**Windstar: **apologies in the delay but I'll try to get a few more chapters up soon.

Thanks to all of my reviewers and readers and once more none of this belongs to me (except for the characters that you don't recognize)


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